


Surrender

by seaglassdragon



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Character Death, Cutting, Depression, Drugs, Overdose, Suicide, alchohol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-23 01:09:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18539212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seaglassdragon/pseuds/seaglassdragon
Summary: The world is ending anyway, so why not?





	Surrender

Five had been back for only a few days, Eudora had only been dead for a few hours but he had been feeling like this his whole life. Hopeless. Deigo sat alone in the boiler room that he called home, leaning against the wall with his eyes focused on nothing and ignoring the few bloody gashes along his arms. He felt like was going to explode, just pop like a balloon and he couldn't even identify what it was inside him. He just felt like he was going to break apart or catch fire from the inside. His head was pounding and his eyes wouldn't focus. 

The woman he loved was gone, the only person he had considered to be in his corner. She had always listened to him and trusted him. At least until Five got involved. He scowled and the pain in his chest increased. She was gone and of course, it was his families fault. Everything was their fault. He hung his head, the pounding not quite enough to drown out his thoughts. His hands were shaking and he couldn't tell if it was from blood loss, anger or pain that he just couldn't detect. 

He glanced to his side, eyes locking onto the blood dripping over onto his shirt from the long gash in his bicep, it was messy, he scowled and whispered: "I can make a better cut then that". He had one of his knives in hand in less than a second and draw the glistening blade of the knife along his arm, right below the other cut. Fire burnt across his skin as the tanned skin split as easily as warm butter. He gasped out loud but didn't wince or even blink. In fact, he smiled as he watched the blood drip, he moved his now steady hand and cut again, breathing in deeply at the feeling of the sting. It somehow felt amazing. 

He cut himself two or three more times before his hands started shaking again and the blade fell from his fingers, not of his own accord, he just couldn't hold it anymore. He winced and leaned back against the wall, staring at the stained seeling as the rage and hurt pushed against his ribcage like prison bars. He wanted nothing more than to scream, cry and throw himself into the arms of someone he loved but his voice was hoarse from yelling and he honestly doubted he could make a sound, his eyes were dry and had been since he was 8, with one exception, and of course everyone he loved was dead or had never been alive, to begin with. 

His father had made damn sure of all of that. Sir Reginald Hargreeves had made damn sure his son never cried and never loved. He made the mistake of closing his eyes, just trying to get away from the pain and the pounding in his head but all it did was take him back to the last time he had cried. 

He had been 8 years old and just woken up from a bad dream, with nowhere else to go he had snuck down the hall and crawled into Klaus's bed, shaking his brother awake and just asking him to talk. Klaus had sleepily agreed and had let Diego ramble for hours, something that he appreciated to this day. But all good things come to an end. Sir Reginald Hargreeves made sure of it. 

He had burst through the door yelling which of course made both boys cry and he yelled at them for that too. Diego's memory of what followed was hazy but he remembers his mother pulling Klaus away and closing the door on him as his father drug him away, he remembered the sting of Sir Reginald's cane, the force of his boot and the edge of his voice. He remembered cleaning and cuts and bruised for two weeks before they didn't need it anymore. He remembered the pain. He had never forgotten that pain. 

Sure it lessened sometimes, when he threw something he could pretend he was throwing the pain with it but just like he retrieved his knives the pain came back, and sure when killing someone who deserved to die it went away but later, when he had to wash the person's blood off his hand the pain returned. The longest it had ever ebbed was in Eudora's bed. The bed with the sheets she washed every Sunday and the pillows she replaced every year at Christmas. The night light shaped like a flower and the quilt her grandmother had made, the bed tucked carefully into a corner, the safest place in the room, the bed with her in it. Those nights he could almost sleep easy. She was there and at the time he thought she would never leave.

He forced his eyes open, they stung and he wished so hard that he could cry, he wanted to, he needed to but no, no Sir Reginald Hargreeves had made sure he didn't know how. He had made sure of a lot of things. Diego took another breath, feeling like he was fighting for it. The pain in his chest was spreading and his head felt like it was going to explode and he wanted so badly to cry. 

He leaned forward, contemplating getting to his feet but quickly abandon the idea, he had nowhere to go, this pathetic little room was his only home. His loving mother was a robot, programmed with the words of a man who had tortured him his whole life, his brothers all hated him with the exception of Klaus who he doubted would be coherent enough to care. He knows Vanya hated him and he didn't blame her and of course Allison would take Luther's side, she always did. 

He shuttered as more memories overcame him. The night they had broken one of Reginald's favorite pieces of stained glass. He and Luther had been fighting, Luther had started it and was showing off by throwing Diego around while Allison cheered him on, in his careless show of strength Luther had thrown right into the stained glass and of course it shattered, sending glass all over the floor and of course into Diego's back. Reginald had come running and started to scream what happened, Luther had pointed and after a moment of fear, Allison had as well. Diego screwed his eyes shut, desperately trying to forget the feeling of glass being beaten out of his skin, the tone of his father's voice, Allison's refusal to meet his eyes for weeks. 

He opened his eyes again, the room around him seeming all the darker. He left out a breath that came as a half-hearted sob. He wanted to sob as he meant it but he didn't know how. He had never been allowed. 

He stayed like that for hours, being thrown in and out of memories, at one point gaining enough strength to cut himself, this time across his wrist. He had seen Klaus do that when they were kids and it seemed to work for him.

As he stared at the dark red dripping down how fingers he realized the brother who had had it right all along was Ben. Ben had killed himself years ago and Diego has always blamed him for it. At least until the last few days when he suddenly realized that Ben was the smart one. Besides the world was ending, so why not? He had nothing left to lose. 

With that, he finally got to his feet and limbed over to the board resting on top of pipes that he called a desk and scribbled out a note. His handwriting was shit but he knew the old man would know what it said "Sorry, I know I'm the cleanup guy but this one is on you. Just tell my family and they will take care of it. Feel free to sell my stuff, maybe you can get something out of it. Consider it a gift. Again, I'm sorry for all the shit I caused. Thanks for giving me a place to sleep -Diego". 

He tore the note off and left it as the only thing on the desk. Then he went into the bathroom and pulled out all the remnants of sleeping pills, pain meds and vitamins he had tried throughout the years, there was a lot and he had no doubt it would be enough. He dumped it all on the bed and made his last stop at the fridge, pulling out a beer before setting back onto the bed. 

It took him a while to open all the bottles with blood still slick on his fingers but he got there and started swallowing. He took a handful and washed it down with beer. Feeling himself start to get light headed even as he worked his way through pill bottle after pill bottle.

He chuckled to himself softly, the pain in his chest was finally fading and so was his vision. When he finished off the beer he leaned back against the wall, listening to the hum of the boiler that had put him to sleep so many times and closed his eyes. As he started to fade his last thought was "At least I'll still be able to talk to Klaus".


End file.
